The greasy, smelly waterslide park lay on the northern bank of Hillarys Boat Harbour next to the greasy, smelly man-made beach. During the summer season the beach would become crowded and steamy; filled with paranoid parents all trying to keep track of their own spawn. On these days the stagnant water would take on a noticeable stench of child urine and boat oil. Teenagers would brave the threat of massive splinters to jump off the aging wooden Jetty, while other not so smarter ones would try their hand at sliding down the disused boat ramp, then try to claw their way up the algae covered cement. Meanwhile others blindly lined up the stairs of the waterslide tower for an hour to experience thirty seconds of mild fun.
There were three waterslides; their giant green tubes jutting out from the grass embankment like ugly fibre-glass tentacles. The “Hydro Tube” was the longest and generally the most popular, it was the least intimidating and it would generally take around two or three trips down it till it started to get uninteresting. A favourite activity for the staff after hours would be to limit the water to a trickle, add some detergent, grease up a matt with cooking oil from the cafe and hit the Hydro Tube to see how fast you could go down it, the way it was meant to be rode. The “Wild Rapids Tube Ride” was the next biggest and was neither wild nor rapid. The rider would take up a black rubber tube down the pitch black slide and wait to come out the steep end, the end of the ride was the best bit about it. Lastly and least there was the “Speed Twister Slides” which were two twisting smaller tubes, the idea being that you would race another to the end, however the ride generally ended in discomfort with water being pushed up every orifice. Accompanying the waterslides were some trampolines and the lamest mini golf course in the country as well as ever changing carnival rides.
My brother Nathan was the first to get a job there and I manage to get one through nepotism. First I worked up the top, sitting for hours at a time telling excited kids when to go down. The best part of the job was telling the bastards off by far, I won’t lie; I fucking loved it. Sometimes I would just be a jerk for something to do. My favourite thing to do if I saw a little goblin child spitting or throwing their tube off the side I would get them to go down and collect the tube and bring it up to me, then send them down to put it back and tell them to come back and see me, upon their return I would then tell them they were banned from my slide for ten minutes. I was such an asshole, but damn it was fun and they probably deserved it anyway. After doing that for a year or so I went to the dry rides section which was just as easy and allowed for more assholism on my part as well as some good old fashioned skiving. In the evenings we would play extreme Frisbee on the trampolines or bumper car polo, I still have the scars.
The great thing about the Waterslide Park was the staff, by far. Everyone was young and equally as irresponsible, but worked together and got a long, most all the staff drank their pay checks after work and it was common for all the senior staff to be horribly hung-over on Saturday mornings. I remember one morning in particular I had gone to Michael Davis’s 18th and proceeded to get my teenage arse drunk as a skunk, I rock up still inebriated only to find my co worker Millsy equally as fucked up and then confronting Eli the duty manager only to find him in the same state. It’s a wonder how nothing went horribly wrong, but nothing ever did, the crew worked together in harmony.
Now the staff parties, they were the thing of legends. While at this stage in my life I was had absolutely no idea how to do the whole “girl” thing. I focused mainly on having fun, getting drunk and embarrassing myself, which I managed to do right off the bat at my first staff party. Looking back on it now makes me smile and I’m sure if any one who worked at the place is reading this they too are smiling. I do remember throwing up outside my new place of work at the end of the night and making out with a girl twice my size on the Wacky Putt. The old Russell house in Sorrento hosted some successful parties during the course of my brother and I working there, they were great and debauched, but they were nothing compared to Courtney’s parties. Courtney’s parents lived abroad with their youngest son and had left both Courtney and his other not so younger brother Waz in charge. Courtney was a man of action and would put on a keg, barbeque and large Jacuzzi, which would be a putrid grey culture chamber for all never before seen bacteria in the morning, a truly disgusting sight.
The waterslide crew have all gone onto different things now, I walked through there a few months back and it was a completely new staff; no doubt a good thing for productivity and Doug the owner’s health. We all started to see a difference in Doug toward the end, he was getting older and feeling financial pressure and I’m sure he knew of our partying habits as well as our poor work ethic. I’d like to see them all again some time; it was a funny thing being a part of that world, while growing up. Being a teenager is hard and awkward enough but while I was there it all seemed easier, we were all going through similar things, we all shared the good and the bad and the tragic together and they are all a part of my life. I find it hard to remember and describe specific tales from my time there because they’re all so rich, I have never found anything like the staff at the waterslides and I don’t want to. I was a horrible employee there and am still amazed that I didn’t get fired. Everyone that worked there for that time shares a connection, no matter what we’re doing now I hope that if you got us all in the same room together it would still feel like old times, when the summer season came and the smell of chlorine, ice-cream cake and vinegar would fill air of our great escape.
To misquote Hunter S. Thompson “We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, more than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Hillarys and look north, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark - that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.”
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